Last month, McLean posted the "pinnacle" of his collection on Craigslist for $175,000. So far, a man has offered to trade him a Learjet for McLean's piece of military history. But, as McLean's family has discussed, a Learjet's just not practical.

McLean bought the helicopter as surplus for $14,000 three years ago — it had last been used to fight fires in Florida. He spent countless hours researching its history, and then meticulously acquired authentic replacements for everything missing. He collected helmets, seats, dials and measured out the precise locations of all the decals to make the helicopter a mirror image of what it was in 1965, right down to the Camp Pendleton signature on the nose: a skull and crossbones inscribed within the ace of spades.

Now, he said, his wife wants him to sell it so they can finish their beach house.

According to McLean's research, about 200 of these Huey gunships were shipped to Vietnam, and only 36 returned.

"He's probably right on the money," said retired Col. Walter J. Boyne, former director of the National Air and Space Museum of the Smithsonian Institution and author of "How the Helicopter Changed Modern Warfare."

The Huey gunships were "the backbone ofU.S. militarypower for many, many years," Boyne said, and just the sort of thing someone with a sense of nostalgia might want to buy.

"Maybe they were rescued by one, or they flew one," Boyne said. "There's a lot of rich guys with toys out there, flying World War II fighter planes. ... It's a matter of prestige, like a driving an antique Rolls-Royce. It's not great for getting you around town, but it's great for prestige."

Even if the Federal Aviation Administration gave permission for McLean's Huey to leave the ground, he couldn't fly it. He walked away from plans to become a pilot in the Texas National Guard, he said, when he met his future wife, Mary.

The couple tows the Huey on a custom-made trailer — included in the purchase price — to veterans' events and fundraisers around the area, though neither ever served in the military. They say restoring the helicopter has been a public service, connecting aging veterans with their earlier lives.

"It's the sound that really brings them back," McLean said. "When they're lying in the jungle and they hear the whoop-whoop-whoop, you know the helicopter's coming. ... It brings out a lot of emotions. Just the smell inside the aircraft brings back a rush of memories for these veterans. Some good, some bad."

Two years ago, retired Marine Capt. Clyde Childress was hosting a Wounded Warrior event at his home west of Richmond, Va. By chance, a friend had spotted McLean's Huey as it rolled along Interstate 95 on its trailer, and the friend suggested bringing it to the event. Childress' flight logs revealed he had flown missions in that very helicopter.

"I just sat there, and I couldn't believe I was there sitting in a plane that I had flown 40 years ago," said Childress, who was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for his service. If anyone gets McLean's Huey flying, Childress wants a ride.

The aircraft is a rare find but not a perfect one. And acquiring all the parts necessary for it to fly — not to mention the paperwork — would be an expensive undertaking.

"You have to have deep pockets, like half a million bucks. It's not funny," said Mike Law, president of the Vietnam Huey Pilots Association, which is based in Texas.

But Law understands the appeal. He said he leaped at the opportunity to ride in a Huey a few years ago, and even brought his wife along.

"While she's scared spitless, I can share with her what it was like when I was a kid," Law said, adding that the flight, though poignant, was different.

"It's not the same experience," he said. "You're not smelling Vietnam, you're not looking down over live ammunition, you're not wearing dirty clothes. So times, they have changed."

But can McLean sell his Huey, even if it can't be flown?

"Probably," Law said. "This guy might be slightly overpriced, but there's also nostalgia to it."

Scott Chellis flew Hueys in Vietnam in 1970-71, and he has been in the market for an E-series Huey for a few years. He's had trouble finding one.

"When you spend your life climbing in and out of those — I've flown over 700 hours — you get attached to it," said Chellis, who lives in North Carolina but is considering a road trip to Maryland. "Nobody who hasn't spent their life in the military would understand."

Chellis initially thought McLean's price was "too much for a plane that can't fly," but his attitude changed when he realized that he might have flown on this particular Huey. "If that's an aircraft that I flew in Vietnam, I might just give him $175,000 for it."

Fred Allison, historian at the Marine Corps University in Quantico, Va., said there were roughly 75 Hueys like McLean's in Vietnam at any one time, in a rotation, and they would fly in a variety of roles.

"It was almost omnipresent," Allison said. The Hueys rescued wounded fighters but also provided fire support for missions on the ground, he said.

"That became almost a dominant role, and they were called 'Huey guns.' And they were much loved by Marines for that."

McLean says he won't let the Huey go to just anyone.

"Like anything else, you become sentimentally attached to it," McLean said. "If somebody wants this, and I don't like them, I won't sell to them. You put a lot of sweat and time and money into it. It has a lot of history, and it's become part of the family. When you look to sell, you've mainly got to like the person you're selling it to, and feel good about them. If you don't feel good about it, you'll regret it the rest of your life."

And though he knows finding any buyer might be a tall order, he still dreams about what he would like to see his labor of love become.

"That would be awesome if someone could get this and restore it and get everything recertified," McLean said. "I would love to go for a ride. It's something you'd remember the rest of your life."